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Freddie Mercury is my hero for many reasons, but particularly one: the man had CHARISMA.

Jen will attest to the fact that I do not tolerate those without charisma well. I’m unusally harsh on bad party guests, drippy dinner attendees, fidgety young girls, and guys who have nothing to say about nothing. Charisma isn’t something you’re born with–it’s something you develop. Therefore, I believe that exhibiting or not exhibiting said charisma is indeed a choice. A lack of charisma, therefore, reflects a complete neglect for what other people are supposed to glean from your presence. And if you don’t choose to even be interesting to perceive, you totally suck in my book. Okay, you’re worthless.

Anyway, back to Mercury, a man who, by all standards, was once the living embodiment of charisma. Freddie Mercury was the opposite of worthless, ya hear? He might have blown a few rails off of some backstage drips back in the good ol’ days, but he certainly didn’t respect to those people, or talk and cuddle with them. He definitely wouldn’t have written “You’re My Best Friend” about them.

My friends, I must declare here that Freddie Mercury is sacred in my book. You can sing along with him. You can love him. You can impersonate him, but only by really digging deep to find your serious, true, inner Mercury.